Brandon's POV"Mom, I was drunk!" I respond with an annoyed look on my face. Rebecca Martinez sits gracefully at my desk staring pointedly at me. Because of the time I spent making sure that Natalie was okay, I was late in getting to the office. Truth is, I didn't even want to come in today, but I needed a form of distraction. Thoughts of Natalie have been intruding in my thoughts lately, and I couldn't be more surprised. I don't even like the girl!When I stepped into my office, my mother was already at my desk waiting for me. I knew that she would want an explanation after yesterday's drama, but I sure wasn't expecting to find her waiting for me."And since when do you get drunk?" She asks with a calmness that only Rebecca Martinez is capable of exhibiting. I run a hand through my hair and place the other over the lower half of my face. I don't have a response for her. I can't possibly tell her that I can't get Natalie out of my head. Even admitting it to myself, the thought is appa
Natalie's POVThree days after the 'bottle incidence' as I have chosen to call it, I resume back to work at Giancarlo. Brandon has been shuffling between awkwardly caring and suddenly distant for the past three days, and I have finally decided to simply take his actions as they come. To choose to react to any of his emotions would be setting myself up for a mental condition.In my absence, Mariah has hired more staff and interviewed them. I complete the formalities by conducting a personal interview with them early in the day. By afternoon, I met up with a tech guy Hailey recommended to set up the restaurant's website. True to her hype, he is really good, and he sets it up faster than I envisaged. We decide on a day for testing before he leaves.After that, I join the kitchen staff to knead dough, and prep other items, to Alfredo's delight and everyone else's horror. For me, being in the kitchen is essential. That's one thing they do not seem to understand.When I return to my office,
For the next few days, Brandon and his mother worked tirelessly to find out who was behind the chase. When he continues to hit dead ends, Brandon is frustrated beyond words. I, on the other hand, am mostly over the incident. Brandon insisted on going to work with me for a week after the incident, but I soon realized how difficult it was to work with the man.By the third day, I was frustrated beyond words. Brandon had something to say about everything! He talked too much, complained incessantly, and snapped at a couple of workers. When I couldn't take it anymore, I grabbed my bag, held him firmly by the arm, and dragged him out. That was the last time he went to work with me.Now, as I sit at my desk going over accounts, I'm reminded of the thousand and one reasons why I never liked maths in high school. I have to be honest. This is one of the few reasons why I can't let Mariah go. She might be a witch from hell, but she does an excellent job. Even though I am only going over an alrea
As a child, Sundays were my favorite day of the week. My dad would hold my small hands in his and we would often to to church together. On our way back, we would take the village route that allowed us to see and greet everyone on the island. I was always so excited about holding small conversations with everyone and having them give me a cookie, a candy, or even a dollar bill. At home, my daddy would don his apron and I would don my tiny one too, and we would bake to the ends of the earth. My daddy was such an explorer with food. His explorations mostly went well, but on days when it went south, we were happy to devour the mess. We would laugh heartily and eat just as heartily while talking about how bad the food was.Later, as I got older, I stopped taking the village route. I didn't like talking to so many people anymore. I didn't want their cookies or their money. I stopped going to church too. I was content to spend my Sunday mornings in bed with Loretta Lynn playing from the rec
Brandon's POV"You can bring me some of that cake later," I say before rushing out of the house and into my car. As a rule, home staff who do not live with us do not come in to work on Sundays, so of course I'm driving myself.You can bring me some of that cake? Why in God's name would I say a thing like that? I don't even like cake. The ridiculousness of it all has me laughing. I can't even deny it. This Natalie girl is starting to have a real hold on me. When she handed me that bread and asked me to make toast, I couldn't have been more shocked. No one's ever asked me to cook anything, not even my mom! And if not for the time when I was touring the world in my early twenties, I'd probably not have an idea how to do a single thing in the kitchen.Those years had been quite defining for me. At 23, I'd decided to tour the world before coming to take on the responsibility of CEO. I wanted to be able to move whenever I felt like it so I traveled alone. No help, no family, nothing. Just
Natalie's POV Gathering my bag to myself, I try to see past the tears blocking my sight and make my way out of the building. The receptionist stands to her feet when she sees the way that I'm staggering but I ignore her question on what the problem is.When I walk out the glass doors, Baldwin, who is on a call quickly gets off the phone when he sees me. He rushes towards me in concern, and just then I hear Brandon's voice call out to me from the door. "Let's go," I say frantically to Baldwin. He wraps an arm around me and leads me to the car. Just as he opens the car door, Brandon reaches us."Get your fucking hands off my wife!" He barks.I take a deep breath and turn around to face him. Baldwin gives me a questioning look, and I nod at him to assure him that I can handle this, after which he stands back. The single gesture causes the tears that I have been holding back to fall. That Baldwin would be willing to go against Brandon and risk losing his job to make sure that I'm fine i
I buried myself in work. The diner's buzz grew into a soothing beat, just background noise to disguise the tumult from within. I was at the office, playing with every detail to make sure nothing was misaligned. The spreadsheets on my computer screen just blurred into some mass of numbers and words that didn't make any sense as I stared blankly at them. I had been thinking a lot about things that didn't involve what I wanted to understand.It was impossible not to notice. Every time I closed my eyes, there it was: Brandon's lips on another woman's with a familiarity that turned my stomach.Why should that touch me so compellingly? I should have been expecting it to happen. Ours was not a real marriage: it was a contract; like a business deal. He was a free soul and entitled to do whatever he pleased and so was I. Then, why did it feel that he had taken a knife and stabbed it in my chest?I shook my head then, to shake those thoughts out. Not that I did care, how could I? That wasn't wh
It was as if he knew a few secrets.The restaurant Robin picked was gay; quite the opposite of those quiet corners of the world I'd been retreating into lately. Plates clattered and murmurs of conversation were everywhere, and for a moment, anxiety tugged at me. All of this would have been so much easier if I did think everything was going to be alright, and if I could just go with everything the way it was.But Robin was beside me, an anchoring presence. With hardly any wait, we were ushered to a table, and just about before the waitress had left us with menus, Robin was leaning across the table, glinting in his eyes that familiar hint of mischief."So, what's it going to be? Comfort food or something a little more adventurous?" He glanced up from the menu.I looked down at the menu, barely seeing the words. "I'm not that hungry.” I closed the menu and placed it on the table.The image of Brandon and whoever that girl was made me lose my appetite every time I thought about it.He rol